


Come Away Little Light.

by DarkCommet



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Blind Character, Fae Magic, Father-Daughter Relationship, Father-Son Relationship, Fire Powers, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, Magic, Mind Manipulation, Multi, Valg Princes, Violence, War, conquerors
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-09-06 09:36:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8745112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkCommet/pseuds/DarkCommet
Summary: There's something familiar about the girl. Something just out of reach and Rowan stands there watching as she and Aelin Galathynius talk about something asinine. Suddenly the girl's smiling at something Aelin said and it's with a start that Rowan realizes exactly why the girl looks so familiar. He's spent several years in the company of her father, after all.





	1. Chapter 1

The iron drags across Etaen's stomach and she wants to scream, Gods above she wants to, because the iron's hot and it burns and bites and causes the girl's already abused body a new kind of agony but this isn't Etaen's first experience being tortured by someone else and she's not going to tell them what they want. Never. Not ever. 

So she bites into her bottom lip so hard that blood begins to seep out from the flesh between her teeth. It coats her tongue with the taste of iron and Etaen uses that to keep herself awake. 

 _Farnor_ , Etaen thinks as she snarls at the men around her, _give me strength_. 

As her patron god, Etaen hopes he heard her. Hopes that the great war god heard and lends his strength because Etaen will kill the Adarlanian bastards that have her. She will and when she does it will be slow. It will be cruel. It will _hurt_. And Etaen hopes that when these men die, they die and go to hell. Because these are them men that killer her aunt and uncle, the men that ripped her away from her twin, the men that may or may not have ripped Aelin's life from her... Maybe they hadn't been the men to do it, exactly, but _quilt by omission_ and all that.  

"Tell us where the others are." The man to her left, the man torturing her, growls. 

He smells like something died within him... Like he's rotting from the inside out. 

Etaen reaches out with her gift, brushes her mind against him and finds nothing but blackness and hatred and evil. She pulls away and glares through unseeing eyes. 

"I'm going to kill you, and when I do you're going to wish you'd never crawled out of whatever hole you were born in." Etaen laughs. 

She might be a little insane... Most people would be begging, giving up information and then some, but Etaen just smiles a bloody smile and hopes the creature standing next to her feels fear. 

The hit comes fast, a hard blow to the ribs that cracks two and breaks three. 

This time Etaen gasps. 

"Listen to me you little Ashryver bitch." The creature snarls, foul breath ghosting over her cheeks. "I would not say such things if I were you." 

"Why?" Etaen coughs out, something wet and warm trickling from her mouth. "Can't live up to the expectations?" 

Another hit, this time to the leg. It doesn't break or damage anything, but Gods above it hurts like a rutting bitch. This time Etaen chokes on a scream and the creature laughs. He- Etaen knows it's a male because its hands are too big to be a woman's- runs his fingers through the length of Etaen's hair. She wants to rip his rutting hand off. 

Suddenly the creature's fingers are all but ripping Etaen's hair from her head and she grinds her teeth together. 

"You have a very pretty mouth," the creature comments, "I'd hate to have to cut it off." 

Maybe she's a little worried... This thing doesn't seem like the kind of person to bluff- Gods above, he's already ripped out half of Etaen's fingernails, and that was before he found out that Etaen had been smuggling Demi-Fae out of the area and too safe places for them to hide. 

The memory causes a dull throb in Etaen's fingers. 

And she can't help but think that there's so much fucking blood. Her clothes are ruined and if she doesn't find a way to get out of the fucking cave this bastard's keeping her, well, Etaen won't live much longer. It's not that dying scares her, it doesn't, it's just that Etaen doesn't want to die _yet_. And certainly not like this... Not like some sort of cornered animal. 

 _I won't die like this_. 

It's probably the only thing keeping her alive, keeping her sane. 

 _I will make them pay_. 

All she has to go is get out of this gods forsaken place. Etaen supposes that if she ever does get out that she'll have a fairly decent understanding of how these creatures work, how they group together and fight. 

A nose on her thigh has every muscle tensing. 

"Your pain smells wonderful." The creature comments, tongue smoothing over the bloodied skin of Etaen's stomach. "I would bet that your fear smells rutting delectable." 

"Fuck off." Etaen bites out between her teeth. 

_What do you fear, Etaen Ashryver?_

And she's talking before she can stop herself, "Spiders... And intimacy... Sometimes the idea of what I look like when trying to apply cosmet-" 

Another solid hit to the gut, this time harder, harder, harder until it's all Etaen can do to suck in a breath and prepare for the hit. 

It goes on like this for several hours. The creature demands information, Etaen tells him to shove it, and he beats her until there's nothing but bruised flesh and broken bones. 

Honestly, Etaen can't feel it anymore... She thinks it's because there's so much pain that all of it's canceling each other out. Etaen can't be sure though... 

All she knows is that the creature is growling furiously and spouting some nonsense about freedom in exchange for knowledge, but Etaen knows what his definition of freedom entails. And the twenty-four year old refuses to let it happen. Not if her silence could save hundreds of innocent men and women and children from whatever the fuck these things are. 

Not if her silence could stop these creatures from creating more soldiers. 

So Etaen smiles a bloody smile and makes smart ass comments and takes the beating she's given with as much dignity as she can. And when the creature leaves he leaves Etaen strapped to the iron slab he'd had her on for the past several hours. She doesn't care, not when she can't feel anything anyway. 

And her eyelids are so heavy. 

 _Don't you dare go to sleep!_  Her mind screams, and it's a valid command. Sleeping could be fatal in Etaen's current state... But she's so tired... Maybe a few minutes wouldn't hurt? Before she can stop herself, Etaen's closing her eyes and licking her lips and surrendering herself to the eternal darkness that makes up her world. 

* * *

 Three weeks. 

Etaen's been here for three weeks and it's surprising that she's still alive to actually acknowledge the thought. 

The girl looks around her cell despite the fact that she can't see it. It's not much, barely big enough for her to sit in comfortably, but it's the safest place for her. Being in the cell means she isn't being tortured for information she isn't going to give. Only downside to the cell- aside from the obvious- is that she's surrounded by poor, unlucky sons of bitches that beg and plead and moan. A great bellow that rises up from the dark. 

 _Shut up, shut up, just shut up!_ Etaen wants to scream. Yelling won't help, begging won't help, if anything it'll only get the poor souls locked in the dark killed faster. 

With a sigh Etaen pulls one knee to her chest and rests her bruised cheek on the equally bruised knee cap because she's too tired to think about the pain and she's pretty sure there an infection setting into a couple of her wounds but she can't be sure. Not when the creatures keep her as clean and healthy as possible. Etaen thinks it's because they want to put an obsidian collar around her neck sooner or later, that or they have more nefarious reasons for keeping her alive. 

Etaen finds she couldn't care less because one day or another the twenty-four year old's going to destroy them... Or more specifically, the creature that everyone calls a prince. She'll kill him first. 

The scrape of her cell door opening has Etaen smirking. 

"Up." A man barks, and it's not a creature. He doesn't carry the stench. 

She doesn't move. Just stares toward him with unseeing eyes- Etaen likes to think he doesn't have a nose... For reasons. And when Etaen doesn't move the mas tangles his fingers in the girl's dirty hair and pulls her to her feet. Etaen doesn't know how they expect her to walk with one broken leg, maybe they're going to make her crawl... Apparently not. Two men reach out and grab Etaen by the biceps and drag her through the depressingly cold stone halls carved out by the creatures. 

Their grips on her arm are too tight and will likely leave yet another bruise. 

Etaen can't bring herself to care. 

"How are you, Harker? Is your wife doing well?" Etaen questions the man to her right. 

His mind's an open book, filled with flashing colors and vivacious images. Etaen finds that even though Harker's a prick, his mind is something of a comfort. Etaen thinks his little girl is adorable,  thinks that if her father wasn't such a dumb ass then she might actually grow up to be a lovely young woman... But it's really not her place to say that, is it? 

"Shut up, you Demi bitch." Harker snarls, his gloved fist slamming into Etaen's face. 

The taste of iron fills the girl's mouth, hot and heavy and enraging. Etaen decides she's going to rip Harker's throat out when she gets the chance. She'll do it too, gladly, because why should she care if Harker has a family? He's helped mutilate mothers and fathers and sisters with brothers, this man... No, this monster doesn't deserve Etaen's mercy. And she should really just rip his throat out and watch him choke on the blood her teeth will bring, but for some reason the thought of that little girl has Etaen deciding that she'll probably just snap his neck in two... That way it's less traumatizing if the little girl sees her father's body... Which is unlikely but not impossible. 

Nothing's ever impossible, that's what makes life so thrilling. 

The men drag her through tunnel after tunnel and into a room that smells like blood and sweat and pain and chilled by a gentle breeze that comes from the outside world. It's a room Etaen knows all too well, because she's spent more then enough time strapped to the iron table in the middle of the cave. She can smell another girl laying there, she's been dead for a few minutes now, her mind empty and cold.

Etaen knows the girl wasn't murdered, there isn't the stench of the valg on her... All Etaen can smell if pine and snow.

 _Fae_.  

The thought is fleeting but it comes and it lingers for but a moment. Only long enough for Etaen to think she should reach out and try and find whoever it was that showed the poor Demi-Fae on the table mercy... But she's so tired and it's all she can do to keep her gift expanded enough for her to know what's going on and where they're going. 

But it doesn't mean she doesn't hope whoever it was is still around... Because a little help would be much appreciated. 

* * *

 They stay crouched down, hidden among pine trees and weeds and rocks. Watching, waiting. 

Rowan is calm, quiet in ways Celaena has never known him to be. He's not a soldier, not a spy, and certainly not an assassin... Rowan Whitethorn's a rutting warrior. Celaena can respect that if nothing else. 

There's a quietness, a solemness, to Rowan. Celaena thinks it has something to do with the Demi-Fae girl he just killed- it might have been a mercy kill but it could have been prevented. They just weren't fast enough. 

"We're leaving." Rowan breathes, face cold and hateful. 

Celaena doesn't try to argue, she just goes to pull herself up... And stops when the sound of men walking reaches her ears. 

Rowan's quick to pull her down into the darkness again. 

Three men, all of them mortal, dressed as if ready to go to war step out of the cave. Two of them are carrying a body between them and even though Celaena can't see a face or anything very defining, really, she thinks it might be a woman. 

 _Shit_. 

"Take the Ashryver bitch over there." One man commands. 

Celaena's heart skips a beat. 

_Ashryver bitch?_

She and Rowan exchange a look and the silver haired warrior pulls his bow from his back. 

"What's the matter, afraid I'll ruin those shoes of yours?" 

Everything stops. It slows to a crawl and starts again before jerking to an abrupt stop because... She knows that voice. She _knows_ who it belongs to, and the panic building in her chest is enough to make Celaena want to scream.  

Celaena shifts forward, hoping to get a better look at the girl being held by the Adarlan soldiers because she can't afford to be right. Her eyesight is better in her Fae form, much better, and it allows her a glimpse at the girl's face. 

"Oh gods." Celaena gasps, her horror heavy on her tongue. 

 _No, no, no_. 

"Do you know that woman?" Rowan questions, his voice so soft that Celaena almost misses it over the roar of her heart drumming in her ears. 

She isn't even aware that she's speaking until the terrible truth is hanging in the air between them, "That's Etaen. That's my... That's my _cousin_." 

Cousin. It's not even something that comes close to the bond they shared when they were younger... Celaena remembers every second they'd spent together while in Orynth as children. Every laugh, every mischievous action, ever moment spent with the twins seems to flash across Celaena's mind and it hurts because those memories are going to be tarnished by another one- a memory of blood and death and another lost family member- is she doesn't do something.

But it isn't Celaena that moves, nor is it Rowan, no... It's the Ashryver girl forced to kneel between the two soldiers as the third approaches with a great sword and a strange obsidian collar.

Etaen snarls, and even though Celaena can't see her face she can see Etaen's body move. The older girl drives a sharp rock into the back of one man's knee, when he buckles she sinks her teeth into his neck and rolls which drags the second soldier down into the dirt. The sound of his neck being snapped seems to silence the world. Then there's only Etaen and the third soldier standing in the dim glow of the torches within the cave.

"You rutting cunt." The soldier roars.

Celaena growls, a low rumble in her throat that she'd never have been able to do in her mortal body. Suddenly Rowan's moving. Sticking to the shadows and cover offered by the trees and rocks around them. Closer and closer to where Etaen and the soldier and rolling around in the dirt. Something's wrong with Etaen's leg, Celaena can see that and the man keeps jabbing his fist into it. 

Etaen screeches, rage and pain and malice obvious in her tone.

And then they're rolling, rolling, rolling toward the small cliff above the river below.

"Shit." Celaena hisses as she forces herself to her feet.

She follows Rowan through the shadows, closer and closer to where Etaen and the soldier are dangerously close to the edge of the cliff.

"He should have killed you when you were brought here." The soldier screams, his foot colliding with Etaen's injured leg with enough force to make her roll off and away from the man. Which in turn gives him enough time to stand. "Who would miss you? You're cousin? She's dead!" A kick to the ribs. "You're mother? She's dead too!" Etaen snarls and rolls away from another attack. "Your rutting twin? He isn't even aware that your alive!" 

And it's then that Celaena realizes what Etaen's doing, why she's not fighting back like she would have. It's because the older girl's leading the soldier closer to the cliff edge where it will be easier to push him into the river. 

Celaena almost feels proud. 

But it turns to terror as the man pulls a small knife from his person- the sword forgotten somewhere about three feet away and impossible for Etaen to get to. Celaena runs harder, harder, harder until she's right beside Rowan who keeps casting her worried looks. She doesn't care, she can't, because Etaen's alive but she won't be for long... She's not well enough to actually fight, her body broken and tortured. 

Etaen will die if they don't reach her in time. 

It's a terrible realization. 

And what's worse is that deep down Celaena knows they won't reach her cousin in time to actually save her life. 

Suddenly everything's going to hell. 

The soldiers screaming, Etaen's hand tangled in his hair, and there's blood spilling out from around the knife in Etaen's side. 

Celaena thinks she might have screamed, thinks that the pain in her chest might be her heart burning away into nothing. 

Rowan's arms are around her waist, lips moving against her ear as if in an attempt to soothe her but Celaena isn't listening. Not when she's to focused on the fact that Etaen's pulling them back toward the cliff edge. Too close to the river, too close to her death. The blonde tries to move but Rowan's arms don't let her go. And Celaena's forced to watch as her beloved cousin drags the man toward their doom. 

"If I die." Etaen snarls, voice thick with rage and pain and no small amount of exhaustion. "You die with me." 

Then with a growl Etaen throws herself back. The man tries to keep them upright, but Etaen's grip on his hair and her own weight throws him off balance, and the two of them tumble over the cliff and into the darkness.

This time Celaena does scream, she claws at Rowan's arm and his hands and begs him to let her go, "She's not dead!" Celaena sobs as the fae male pulls her away from the cave and the blood and the possibility of saving Etaen. 

* * *

 They're halfway back to the fortress when Rowan lets go of Celaena's arm. 

She hasn't stopped crying, tears are still dampening her cheeks and Rowan keeps shooting her these looks that make Celaena want to cry harder. Instead she sits down on a log and rubs at her eyes in an attempt to get rid of the wetness. 

"We don't have time to stop," Celaena mutters, voice only a few shades away from sounding broken, "we need to get to the fortress before morning." 

It's true. If they don't get there and warn the Demi-Fae living there of the danger then they won't have as much time to prepare. Which will mean that when those soldiers attack- and Etaen knows they will- they'll all be fucked. 

"What are you talking about?" Rowan asks, he's kneeling in front of her, eyes almost pitying. "We aren't going to the fortress yet." 

"What?" 

Rowan rests his hands on his knees, eyes sad and full of understanding. Celaena wants to punch him in the nose because how could he ever possibly understand? 

"There's a place not to far from here where the river goes shallow. It's only deep enough to reach the middle of the shin and it's possible that your cousin might have washed up on the bank. We're going to go check." Rowan comments. 

"And if she's not?" 

Celaena can't hold onto the hope that Etaen's still alive... Not if Celaena wants to keep herself from falling into that dark hole that hides in the back of her mind. She fell into it when Sam died, and again when Nehemia was killed. She can't handle another little stint in that kind of darkness. 

"We'll return to the fortress." 

It's reasonable and Celaena can used it as a way to distance herself from the thought of Etaen's death. 

With a small nod and no small amount of determination Celaena stands. Rowan offers her a thin smile, nods once, and takes off running. Celaena follows about two steps behind so that he can lead the way to wherever it is that the river grows shallow. They don't talk, they don't look at each other, they just run and run and run some more. 

Run until the trees thin out a little and the sound of rushing water can be heard in the near distance. 

They slow to a fast walk, eyes flicking left and right to make sure no one's going to pop out and try to kill them. There aren't any soldiers looking for there fallen comrade, there aren't any strangers calling out for Etaen. There's nothing, just trees and birds and a little red fox resting on a rock about ten or eleven feet away. 

Celaena doesn't even think about it when she steps away from Rowan and closer to the river, searching for some sign of her cousin. She doesn't see anything at first, no sign of Etaen, not until a flash of dirt covered gold catches her eye. The nineteen year old turns to face the streak of color and it takes half of a second to realize that it's Etaen. 

Mud covered and bloody. 

Green eyes meet turquoise and suddenly they're both running. 

Rowan gets there first, his muscled legs carrying him across the distance and over the river faster then Celaena's could ever do. He reaches Etaen first and rolls her onto her back, his fingers slide over the skin of Etaen's neck in search of a pulse. 

"Alive, barely, but alive." Rowan comments when Celaena reaches them. 

The relief that hits her causes Celaena's shoulders to sag. 

"Can we take her to the fortress?" Celaena asks, eyes roving over Etaen's body. 

She's covered in mud- dried and wet, it covers almost every inch of her and it's hard to see her features but Celaena knows it's Etaen- and blood and bruises. There's an infection starting in her arm and in the gash on her thigh, her injured leg is obviously broke, and the knife in her side disappeared at some point. Celaena thinks that the only thing keeping her live in the drying mud covering the hole. 

"Not like this, she'll die if we try moving her in this condition." Rowan replies. 

"We can't leave her like this!" Celeana snarls, rage building in her body. 

Rowan glares at her and Celaena's mildly surprised he isn't snarling something at her. He's probably trying not to cause her anymore distress, the situation's stressful enough as is. 

"I'm not going to leave her like this, Princess." Rowan growls lowly, eyes flashing. "I'm going to heal your cousin as best I can and you're going to help. Do you understand?" 

With a sigh Celaena lowers herself to her knees across from Rowan. He nods one and reaches for the broken limb. Celaena presses her hands against Etaen's slender shoulders. The two make brief eye contact before Rowan turns away, the snap of Etaen's leg being set and the sudden flair of power almost distracts Celaena from the grunt that rips itself from Etaen's mouth. 

Celaena glances down, expecting to see the mismatched colors that make up Etaen's eyes... Instead she finds an unsettling milky white staring dazedly up at nothing. 

"Etaen?" The nineteen year old breathes as she smooths her fingers over the older girl's forehead, terrified to find that she's burning up.

Rowan's hands are moving over her body, letting his power seep into Etae's injuries and attempt to heal them. It works for the most part. The hole in her side heals, the gashes and the cuts stitch back together, and the bruising goes down a bit. Suddenly Rowan's pulling Etaen into his arms, careful not to grab anywhere near her ribcage.

"What's wrong?" Etaen demands.

"She has some cracked ribs. I healed some broken ones but we should get her to the healers." Rowan says.

Celaena nods as she pushes herself to her feet.

Once she's on her feet Rowan starts walking, Celaena follows, and even though the slowness of their movements is driving Celaena a little crazy- and it is, it really, really is- she can't help but want to tell Rowan to stop stepping over things that could possibly trip him up. Which would make him drop Etaen.

A yelp from behind them makes Celaena freeze.

Rowan casts her a look.

"Go... I'll handle it." She states, voice cold and hateful.

The silver haired male nods once and begins walking again. Celaena thinks Rowan might understand what she's feeling, thinks that he might be giving her space. She's thankful. 

Celaena doesn't want anyone seeing what she's about to do because this is personal. This is vengeance and justice in it's purest form. 

With the silence of the assassin Arobynn raised her to be Celaena creeps through the trees and manages to track down the Adarlan soldier that tried to murder her cousin. He's bloody, his legs bent at awkward angles, nail marks causing a bleeding path down his face. If he were anyone else Celaena might have pitied the sight he paints. But she doesn't. 

Instead she crouches down beside the man and wraps her fingers around his neck. 

"Look at me." Celaena commands, the man's brown eyes flicker toward her and fear flashes across his face. "When you die, you will die knowing that you're going to Hell and that your enemy sent you there." 

And the man tries to fight but there's not a lot someone can do when they're burning alive. 

When it's all said and done there's nothing left of the man... Not really. A few pieces of armor and a hand but nothing else and Aelin grabs the small knife laying just inches from the man's hand. 

It's the same knife that the man used to hurt Etaen. 

Celaena offers a cold smile to the corpse as she turns to leave. 

She has more important things to deal with then the burnt up crisp of a bastard that history will eventually forget ever existed. 

And it's with that thought that the assassin leaves the dead man's body lying in the mud near the riverbank. 


	2. Chapter 2

"The healers think your cousin will make a full recovery." Rowan comments as he steps up to where Aelin Galathynius is sitting. 

She looks tired. There are dark bags forming under her eyes and her skin is ashen. Rowan isn't quite sure how to handle the situation because he and Aelin might not be enemies but they aren't exactly friends either and he doesn't know anything about her relationship with the Ashryver girl with the healers. What he does know makes something clench in his gut. 

"Can I see her?" Aelin asks, not looking at him, eyes focused on the doors leading into the healer's wing. 

Rowan lowers himself onto the bench beside Aelin. 

"They're treating her infections right now." Rowan says, voice soft. 

The blonde nods slowly, eyes intense. Rowan places a hand over hers, silently offering the young woman his strength because he understands. After Lyria died Rowan had wanted to do nothing more then track down her murderers and slaughter them all, so he can only image what Aelin's feeling at this moment with the realization that her only family has been tortured and nearly killed and she can't do anything to truly help. 

But Rowan doesn't push her to talk, doesn't comment when Aelin pulls her hand away from his. He just sits there and lets her decide if she wants to talk or not, and if she does then he'll listen. It's something that he'd wished someone had done for him. 

"Did they say anything about her injuries?" 

"Nothing the healers can't fix. She might have a limp, but i think we got here soon enough that Rovena will be able to prevent that." Rowan remarks. 

Rovena, a little Demi-Fae girl with an exceptional ability to heal. Rowan likes her well enough, he did ask that she be put in charge of Etaen Ashryver's care after all. 

A moment of silence passes between them before Aelin squeezes his hand. Rowen looks at her and finds that Aelin's eyes are filled with tears and no small amount of sadness. 

"Thank you, Rowan." 

It's not the first time she's said it but for some reason this is the first time Rowan thinks she legitimately meant it. 

Before Rowan can comment on it the door to the hospice is swinging open and Aelin's rushing over to where Rovena is walking toward them. Words are exchanged about Etaen's condition and Rovena tells the blonde that as long as she doesn't disturb the girl lying in the bed that Aelin can go see her. The blonde nods once and disappears into the hospice. 

* * *

 Etaen Ashryver sleeps for two days. 

It's longer then the healers had expected but not a worrisome development. Aelin stays with her, refuses to leave the older girl's side even when Rowan tells the blonde that, "Sitting here all night won't make your cousin wake up any faster, princess." 

The look he gets from the Galathynius girl is filled with subtle anger.

This is probably the most devotion Rowan's ever seen out of Aelin. He's seen her rage, her pain, her joy... But her tears and her devotion? Rowan never saw either of those until Etaen Ashryver.

As terrible as it is to admit, it's one of the reasons he searched for the Ashryver girl. Oh, he would have tried to help had she been Aelin family or not, he just doesn't think he would have gone looking for her after she fell into the river.

But Rowan's glad he did because the look on Aelin's face when she'd realized who the girl was had been heart broken and the way she'd tried to distance herself from the idea of her cousin dying had been... Unsettling.

"Do you blame her?" Emrys asks on the second evening.

Rowan casts the male a look, it's not quite a glare but it's close. The Demi-Fae just rolls his eyes and continues to chop up carrots for a stew he's making for those who will be up through the night. A habit the older looking male seems to have made for himself over the years. 

"Of course not." Rowan snaps. 

Emrys stares at him through chestnut eyes and Rowan feels like the male is stripping him to the bone. Grey hair drops into Emrys' face as he nods. 

"You'd better hope that girl wakes up, Rowan Whitethorn." Emrys remarks. 

"And why's that?" 

Rowan suspects he already knows. 

"Because you brought her here and now you're dangling the possibility of family in front of Aelin's face." Emrys comments. 

Tattooed knuckles turn white as Rowan clenches his fist. He's well aware that Rovena is certain Etaen will wake up eventually, and normally Emrys' comments wouldn't worry him, but for some reason it does. It bothers Rowan quite a bit. 

They don't say much after that. Just sit in silence with only the rhythmic clunk of Emrys' knife slicing through vegetables. The fae male only sticks around long enough for Emrys to dish up some stew for Aelin. 

"Thank you Emrys." Rowan utters as he takes the offered bowl. 

"Make sure she eats." Is all Emrys says. 

And Rowan leaves with a small nod. 

It's no secret that Aelin hasn't been eating well... Or sleeping well. Not because she's consciously doing it, Rowan thinks it's because she's afraid that something will happen to her cousin if Aelin leaves her alone for more then a minute. Rowan understands, he does, but Aelin's been putting off her training and with the soldiers hiding not to far from the fortress... Well, it's aggravating. 

Honestly, Rowan's expecting Aelin to be sitting in the chair beside Etaen Ashyrver's bed, it's something he's grown accustomed to seeing out of the blonde. What he isn't expecting is to walk into the hospice and find Aelin Galathynius curled up in bed beside her cousin. 

They're a tangle of limbs and blankets. 

Aelin's arms are wrapped around the older woman's waist, her head resting on a bruised shoulder. Etaen isn't much better seeing as she's cradling the younger woman in her arms, fingers curled around Aelin's elbow and head. The nineteen year old look peaceful in a way she's never looked before. 

"Hello, Rowan." 

Rowan turns to look at the Demi-Fae behind him. Rovena's carrying a box filled with medicinal herbs and Rowan gently takes it out of her small arms with one of his hands. She gives him an unimpressed look which causes Rowan to smile a bit. 

"Why didn't you tell me the girl woke? You had specific orders to do so." 

He's not angry, just annoyed. 

"I did," Rovena agrees as she walks toward the bed, "but the girl told me not too." 

And they both know that Rowan might have given an order but Rovena's a healer and if not telling Rowan will keep those under her care happy then so be it. Rowan thinks it's kind of the dark haired Demi-Fae to do that, sweet... But idiotic. 

"When did she wake up?" 

"Not long ago. Maybe an hour?" 

Green eyes watch as the healer throws another blanket over the sleeping women. 

"Will the Ashryver girl be able to leave tomorrow?" Rowan demands. 

Because the sooner she's out of the hospice the sooner he can go back to training Aelin and getting them all ready for battle. Rovena offers him a sharp look but nods anyway. 

"She can, but she needs a good meal and plenty of rest. In a good bed, Rowan. We all know where you threw the other one." Rovena chastises. 

Unimpressed and maybe a little guilty, Rowan walks over to the bed where the two women are sleeping and places the stew on the side table. Once he's sure neither of them are going to roll and knock themselves or the stew onto the floor Rowan lowers himself into the chair beside the bed. He places his sword across his lap and turns to Rovena. 

"Go, I'll watch over them for the night." Rowan states, and it's true. 

Every instinct is screaming at him to sit and make sure neither of these girl end up hurt. 

Rovena just scoffs at him as she places the herbs in their places on a table. 

"I appreciate the offer but we both know you aren't equiped to take care of Etaen." Rovena comments. 

Green eyes narrow, silver brows furrow, and Rowan lets out a soft, "What?" 

Rovena glances at him, grey eyes filled with pity, "People who are born blind or have been blinded are more likely to suffer from nightmares then those who can see... Normally it doesn't cause too much trouble but with the torture that girl's experienced..." 

"Is she dangerous?" 

It's a valid question and Rowan expects Rovena to shrug and tell him that all depends on her. Instead she licks her lips and crosses her arms and lets out a sad, "I can't tell you that with any amount of certainty, which why I want to stay near her." 

"Afraid I'll scare her?" Rowan asks with a thin smirk. 

"I'm more afraid of her scaring you." Rovena remarks. 

Then she's disappearing into a back room, leaving Rowan alone with the two sleeping cousins. 

When he wakes up the next morning the bed is empty of the cousins and the bowl of stew on the table has been taken away. 

Rowan stretches, his muscles stiff from sleeping in the rutting chair all night instead of in his bed. Oh, he's had worse sleeping arrangements but that doesn't mean he has to enjoy it. Because, honestly, Rowan would prefer a bed over the rutting chair. 

"Your observation skills are lacking." Rovena comments as she pulls the blankets off of the bed.

"When did I fall asleep?" Rowan demands, because he honestly doesn't remember. 

"Oh, you didn't fall asleep." Rovena laughs as she balls up the fabric and cradles it in her arms. 

"What do you mean." It's not a question, it's a demand. 

"You were aggravating me with all that male fae territorial bull shit. So, I slipped a tonic into your water last night." 

The silver haired male isn't sure if he should be angry or not. Eventually he just decides that it's not worth it and rubs at his eyes... Alright, maybe he'll be a little angry. But lashing out at the little healer won't do any good because she's already walking away, telling him that Aelin and Etaen went to the kitchens. Rovena's gone before Rowan can actually think of reprimanding her. 

So it's with an annoyed sigh that the male stands and makes his way toward the kitchen.

* * *

Etaen Ashryver's milky eyes are on him when Rowan enters the room. Rowan knows she can't actually see him but something deep down makes his stomach twist because something's not quite right about the girl's eyes. About the look she's giving him. 

"Good morning Rowan." Aelin greets before shoving another bowl of stew at the blonde sitting across from her. "Eat." 

Rowan watches as the Ashryver girl- freshly washed and covered in mended clothes- rolls her unseeing eyes. But she takes the offered stew and sips at the broth. Emrys smiles delightedly at her when Etaen makes a comment about rosemary. Malakai just rolls his eyes and tells her, "Eat your soup." 

And the Whitethorn Prince is only slightly surprised to realize the Demi-Fae warrior is being pleasant. 

Or, slightly pleasant. 

"So this is the Whitethorn male I've heard so little about." Etaen remarks, dryly, slender fingers tracing the rim of the stew bowl. Her milky eyes flicker toward Rowan for a brief moment and she lets out a soft, "His mind is uncomfortably loud." 

"Etaen!" Aelin reprimands but her tone is laughing. "You're being rude." 

"Rude? How so. We weren't introduced and because I don't know your friend, Aelin, I offered the only compliment I could think of." 

"Saying someone has loud thoughts isn't a compliment, Etaen." 

Slender fingers- some still slightly bruised- still on the rim of the bowl and golden eyebrows raise in question. 

"Isn't it though?" Etaen asks. 

Rowan lowers himself onto the stool next to the Ashryver girl, slightly disturbed by the obvious nature of her gift, but not wiling to comment on it. Not when she's done nothing to him... And if he really must know anything Rowan will simply ask. 

With a smile that the girl can't see Rowan takes her hand in his and raises it to his mouth where he drops a chaste kiss to scabbed over knuckles. "Rowan Whitethorn." Rowan states. 

"A pleasure." Etaen replies as she pulls her hand away. "I'm Etaen Ashryver." 

"Yes, I've heard mention of you." 

Etaen just scoffs and turns her attention to the food being put down in front of her. She's something of a picky eater, poking and sniffing at some of the foods and pushing aside the sweeter of the items on her plate. Rowan finds it odd. 

"I dislike overtly sweet things." Etaen explains before taking a bite of some bread. 

Something about the way the girl moves her food about on her plate strikes something deep, deep within Rowan. 

Like something he's seen happen hundreds of times before but can't quite remember where. 

Rowan walks away from the girl and stops behind Aelin but he makes sure to keep her in his line of sight because that feeling of vague familiarity isn't going away. It's in the tint of her hair, the slant of her eyes, the shape of her mouth, it's in the way she smells. It's all there, just out of reach, taunting Rowan with its vagueness. There's something familiar about the girl. Something just out of reach and Rowan stands there watching as she and Aelin Galathynius talk about something asinine. 

Aelin makes a comment that Rowan doesn't quite catch. 

And suddenly Etaen Ashryver's smiling, laughing, and it's with a start that Rowan finally realizes why she looks so familiar. 

Etaen Ashryver looks familiar because she shares her father's features- Rowan would know, he's spent more then enough time in Gavriel's company to have memorized the Fae male's face.

Rowan curses himself for not realizing it sooner. 

"Is something the matter, Rowan?" Aelin questions. 

"No," he lies, "nothing." 

He glances at the girl sitting across the table only to find her looking toward him, eyebrow raised in question. 

Rowan just offers a thin smile and tells the two women that he's going to go make sure the sentinels aren't slacking off on their duties. The blonde waves him off, her attention trained on her cousin, and Rowan slips from the room with a frown. 


	3. Chapter 3

"What happened, Etaen?" 

The twenty-four year old freezes, the wooden staff in her hands still. She doesn't turn to look toward Aelin- Not that it would do any good anyway, it's not like she can actually see the girl, even if she wanted to without someone specifically thinking about her features it's impossible. Besides, all Etaen wants to do is pull the younger girl close and bury her face in Aelin's hair so that she can thank every God she knows for keeping Aelin _alive_. But Etaen refrains, emotional displays have never been something she's good at... Especially not after what happened in Orynth and if she allows herself to cry now Etaen doesn't think she'd be able to stop. 

So the young woman twirls the staff between her hands as she spins on her heel and falls into a stance. Her muscles stretch unpleasantly, a result of her torture and quick healing. 

"What are you talking about, Aelin?" Etaen demands, softly. 

And maybe she's avoiding the question. Doesn't she have the right to do so? She's in the presence of a cousin she thought she lost- a cousin who she loves but doesn't truly know anymore- and a Fae male who keeps thinking about all the ways she reminds him of another male fae. 

 _Gavriel_ his mind keeps screaming. _Gavriel. Gavriel. She looks like Gavriel_. 

Which is another reason Etaen doesn't want to talk to Aelin _or_ Rowan at the moment. She's kind of worried that if she opens her mouth the words that spill out might be cruel and hurtful and filled with malice. Because her father, Aedion's father, he's alive! Fucking alive and he isn't even aware that he has two children! He doesn't even care! And after all the times Etaen and her mother... _Oh Gods_. 

The crack of the staff in her hand snapping makes Etaen scowl. 

 _Fucking terrific._ She thinks as she twirls the broken pieces in her hands. 

"You know what I'm talking about Etaen," Aelin snaps, "I want to know what happened. Why were you there to begin with?" 

"If I told you anything, Aelin, we'd all have to sit here for another hour." 

Well, not really but... It's a long story. 

Suddenly there are fingers on Etaen's face and the twenty-four year old jerks away with enough force that it almost throws her on her ass. Physical contact isn't... It's not... The only intimate touches she's had in the past weeks- aside from the night before when she'd pulled Aelin close and stroked her hair and sobbed into her shoulder- have been from knives in her muscles and iron dragging across her flesh. 

The hurt that flashes through Aelin's mind makes Etaen sigh. 

"Look, Aelin. I love you and I'd gladly tell you everything but I don't trust _her_ pet." Etaen comments. 

"Pet?" 

Unseeing eyes flicker toward the Whitethorn Prince. 

"Rowan? No, Rowan's harmless." Aelin cackles. 

Fingers tighten on the wooden rods in Etaen's grip. 

"Harmless until his bitch queen decides you being alive is more of a hindrance to her then you being dead." Etaen agrees, eyes narrowing at the thought of Maeve toughing Aelin. "And once that's decided your death won't be pretty Aelin. It will _hurt_ if she gets her hands on you." 

A silence falls over them and Etaen spins away from them, left arm coming up as her right slices the air in front of her. Etaen's not really trying to do anything, she's just going through sets, making sure her muscles can handle the strain of her movements. 

They can... That's good. 

Very, very good. 

Because Etaen needs her strength if she's going to rip out Narrok's throat. 

* * *

 Etaen doesn't like staying in one place for too long. Doesn't like feeling trapped. 

And that's what the keep makes her feel. 

Trapped like a bird in a cage. 

But she tries... For Aelin, for the people of Mistward who are being hounded by the very things that Etaen has grown to know very well in the past weeks... But trying can only get a person so far. Trying gets Etaen to sit through war meeting after war meeting, trying gets Etaen to sit still in a rickety little chair as people talk about traps and weapons. And even though Etaen _is_ trying, and she really is, that feeling of being trapped finally gets to her and the girl slips out of the room as silently as she can. 

Rowan Whitethorn notices her though, his thoughts briefly diverting from strategy to a flickering thought of worry for the girl that reminds him a little too much of his tawny eyed friend. But he doesn't say anything, and Etaen slips from the room with little more then a departing nod. 

It's raining. 

Fat, heavy drops of water tumbling from the sky and shattering on whatever it touches. 

Etaen's always enjoyed the rain, the simplicity of it. Rain comes, there might be some destruction, there might be death, but the rain eventually stops and when it does the grass grows and the trees sing and it's... It's simple. 

Despite her blindness, Etaen's never had an issue seeing, so it's hardly difficult to find the outer wall. And she scales it in roughly three seconds. Etaen finds a somewhat comfortable place to sit, she crosses her legs and rests her hands on her knees and doesn't bother to pull the hood of her borrowed cloak up over her head. She's already soaked. A cloak won't help much. 

She isn't sure how long she sits on the wall, time doesn't really mean anything to her anymore, but she's fully aware that it's been... Awhile. Etaen's also fully aware of the fact that Aelin's stepping up behind her, mind full of concern and wariness. 

"Hello Aelin." Etaen greets, not even bothering to turn her head in the Blonde's direction. 

There's a shuffle of clothing and shoes as the younger girl settles down beside Etaen, and then warm fingers lacing hesitantly through her own.

Etaen jerks her hand away, lips pursing, eyebrow twitching. 

"We were smuggling Dem-Fae out of Wendlyn and the smaller villages near Doranelle." Etaen remarks dully, a pathetic attempt at a silent apology. 

"What?" 

"You heard me." 

"... What happened?" 

Etaen shrugs. 

She honestly doesn't want to talk about it. 

Aelin seems to understand because she sighs and makes herself comfortable against the wall. A moment of silence passes between them, nothing to be heard aside from the sharp clap of rain hitting stone.

And then, _How exactly does you gift work_? 

Unseeing eyes drift to where Aelin's sitting. 

 _I can touch minds. Read them, see memories, put my own thoughts into another person's head... Sometimes I can even take full control_. 

But that's harder, takes more concentration. Harder, but not impossible. 

 _Are their limitations_? 

Etaen shrugs again. _Depends on the person, I suppose. Some minds are less... Messy. Easier to touch_. 

And it's true. Some minds are chaotic, a hurricane of thoughts and feelings and intentions, and when a person's mind is chaotic Etaen has a harder time concentrating on them. It's not impossible, nothing's impossible, but it can be difficult. Sometimes Etaen wishes she had Aelin's gift- the fire and the warmth that comes with it, sometimes she wishes she had Aedion's ignorance- his freedom from the burden of being gifted. But if Etaen were to ever be given the choice to relinquish her gifts... Well, she wouldn't able too. She wouldn't want too. 

There's never any true silence for Etaen, but, she supposes this is as close to the concept as she'll ever get. Aelin's mind is calm in ways it hasn't been since Etaen had woken. Occasionally there is a passing thought of balls and fancy gowns and laughter. Etaen can't seem to describe the relief she feels when she realizes that the life Aelin lived after the Fall hadn't completely broken her. 

 _She's still Aelin_ , Etaen thinks, _She's still the little girl who likes expensive things and chocolate, it is you who has changed_. 

It's not a lie. She isn't the same girl Aelin knew. Oh, some of her is still there but... It's different now.

A sudden flash of hurt in Aelin's mind makes Etaen wince. 

"I'm glad you're safe. Elated really.... When we saw you go over I... I thought I'd lost you all over again and it _hurt_." 

The younger girl sounds close to tears, like she's biting them back and refusing to let them out. Refusing to seem weak. 

But Etaen understands. She scoots closer to Aelin and tentatively laces her fingers through Aelin's. 

There's barely any contact between their flesh but what little contact their is allows Etaen to assert herself more firmly in Aelin's mind. The older girl refrains from prying or snooping. She just sits there and lets Aelin's surprise and relief flood her being. She only pulls her attention away from Aelin when another mind brushes Etaen's. 

"Your pet is looking for you." Etaen mumbles as she pulls her hand from Aelin's. 

"He's not my anything, Etaen." Aelin corrects softly. "Are you coming?" 

Etaen shakes her head. "No." She replies before leaning her head back against the stone behind her. 

The sound of Aelin's boots smacking against the stone is the only thing Etaen allows herself to focus on. 

* * *

There's a difference between stupidity and what Aelin's doing. 

Etaen gets it. 

The people living in Mistward are unprepared and hardly ready to truly fight a cadre member let alone an entire army. But that doesn't mean Etaen likes the idea of Maeve's soldier's coming anywhere near Aelin. 

With a growl the blonde releases the leather strap she'd been struggling with and grinds her teeth together. 

"I know you're there." She snaps. 

There's movement behind her, a subtle angry thought, and then Rowan Whitethorn is moving her arm so that he can thread the leather strap through the bracer. It's the only thing that actually fits. 

Etaen just wants her armor. 

The armor Radomir made specially for her. 

"You should be sleeping." Rowan comments. 

And she supposes it's true. 

It's too late to be up. 

They'll be fighting within days, if they'd lucky. 

Sleep is a necessity to their survival. Because a sleep deprived soldier is a sloppy fighter. 

"I don't sleep well at night." Etaen remarks, unsure about whether or not she should be telling Rowan any of this. 

"I've heard that some who have lost their sight have trouble sleeping." 

Etaen pulls her arm from Rowan's grasp, twisting so that she's facing him. "I don't trust you." 

Rowan's surprise stems from the fact that she admitted it. 

The blonde steps closer to the Whitethorn male. 

"Let's make something abundantly clear." Etaen hisses, voice sharp and cutting like the blade of a well kept knife. "I understand that you don't get to question Maeve's orders, trust me, I do... But know that if she orders you or any of the others to touch Aelin, for whatever reason, I will rip every single one of you to shreds. And I won't bat an eye while doing it." 

"And here I thought you were beginning to like me." Rowan bites out. 

Her lips twist into something of a smirk as Etaen says, "On the contrary, I like you quite a bit. But I don't trust you." 

With that said and her feelings made clear, Etaen Ashryver turns away from the fae male. 

But his hand shoots out, callouses fingers wrapping around her wrist. Etaen fights the urge to break every bone in his hand. 

"Threatening one of Maeve's Blood Sworn is dangerous, girl." 

"I haven't threatened any of Maeve's blood sworn." Etaen retorts dryly, turning her head just enough that Rowan can catch a glimpse at the scars that grace her face. "I find threats to be tasteless. I've made a promise. And I'm not known to break my promises." 

Etaen pulls her hand from Rowan's grasp, not wanting to slip into his mind anymore then she has to. 

Because something deep down tells Etaen that she won't like what she finds in the deepest corners of the fae warrior's ancient mind. And it's not the murders or the wars that scare her. It's the fact that Etaen could possibly begin to sympathize with the fucker. 

So, to keep herself from delving into that mind of his, Etaen retreats from the armory.

Rowan's thoughts follow her all the way to her chambers.


	4. Chapter 4

Etaen is trying to sleep when the alarm sounds the next evening. 

She's out of her bed in an instant. 

It's only a matter of seconds before Etaen has slipped into the leather armor she's managed to acquire. She tightens the laces and buckles with ease, then she's strapping the weapons Aelin had given her into their respective places. 

Ten minutes later Etaen is stepping up beside Aelin. 

Rowan's gaze is fixated on her and, more importantly, the quiver and bow dangling between her fingers. 

"As soon as the barrier falls, I want you to put arrows through their eyes," Rowan says to them. "Don't give them a chance to enthrall you- or anyone. Leave the soldiers to the others." 

"What about magic?" Aelin questions. 

"Use it sparingly, but if you think you can destroy them with it, don't hesitate. And don't get fancy. Take them down by any means possible." 

Such icy calculation. Purebred, undiluted warrior. Etaen can feel the aggression pouring from him, can feel the hesitant awe coming off of her cousin. Etaen clenches her jaw. 

But it's not the fact that Aelin wants to fuck the fae male that has Etaen wanting to rip something apart. It's the fact that a stench is beginning to slip past the barrier keeping Mistward protected. It's a rotten smell, like bodies that have been left in the sun too long after their deaths. Flesh falling away to reveal bloody bone, maggots eating away at the muscle and tissue. 

And Etaen doesn't realize she's sneering until Aelin places her hand on her shoulder. 

_Are you alright? You don't have to do this._

_Yes, I do._  

Because this isn't about revenge. Well, it kind of is... But it's mostly about the fact that Etaen had been there when the bastards marching toward Mistward had captured and tortured innocent people for nothing but their own entertainment. 

She can't let that happen to anyone else. 

"They're here." 

But Etaen already knows that. 

Without hesitation Etaen reaches out to probe the mind of the first creature. And pulls back before he can notice that she's trying to slip into the inky blackness of the void that makes up its mind. There's nothing of interest, only the deep longing for violence that Etaen has grown accustomed to in the time she had been forced to spend with them. So she turns her attention away from the three creatures and Narrok's lingering presence in favor of looking for the soldiers marching toward Mistward. 

She can hear them, feel their hatred as if it were her own, but it's as if they've been informed about her gift. For their minds are focused on everything but their exact location. Weapons and blood and glory that will come with the downfall of Mistward. 

Behind her, Rowan and Aelin are talking. Arguing about Aelin's ability to use her flame against the creatures standing beyond the protective ward stones. 

Etaen ignores them, choosing instead to focus on the mind of a soldier in an attempt to find out where they are. 

And then Etaen lets out a loud shout of, "The tunnel! They've been let in through the tunnel!" 

The blonde girl pushes past Rowan, leaving her bow and the quiver of arrows behind for either Rowan or Aelin to use. She shoves through the demi-fae soldiers, sidestepping their grasping hands, because she's fully aware of where the soldiers will be let out and Etaen has every intention of saving as many of her people as she can. Because the people of Mistward are her people. Half breeds like her, alone and distrusted by so many. But not by Etaen. Never by Etaen. 

 _Protect, protect, protect_ a deep, primitive instinct yells. 

Slender fingers, scarred and calloused, drift to the knives at her hips. She finds the name of her weapon amusing, Deer Horn Knives, more then Etaen has any right to. But she adores them. Acting as direct appendages of the hands allows her weapons to move with greater speed and precision. They're best used against weapons that use safe distances to attack from. 

Which means it'll be easier to catch her attackers off guard. 

Etaen smiles as she nears the escape tunnel. 

* * *

There are too many for Etaen to fight, even with her enhanced fae senses and her gift. 

The soldiers pour out of the escape tunnel. Their armor glinting dully in the firelight around them. These soldiers are nothing more then children. Some having not seen enough winters to have reached the maturity needed to fight in a battle. Many of their minds are scattered, thoughts more focused on blood and glory then on the Demi-Fae attacking them. 

Which is stupid of them. 

Etaen thinks their commanders should have taught them better. 

With a hissed breath Etaen rolls to the left, barely avoiding having her head lopped off by an Adarlanian soldier. He snarls something that sounds a great deal like a swear before he attempts to chop her head off again. Etaen is faster though. 

She springs forward, twisting her blades between her fingers so that when Etaen swings them down toward the man's legs they sink deep into poorly protected space behind the man's knee. Etaen moves away before the man can wrap his stubby fingers around her knees or her wrist or her arm. And Etaen isn't fazed by the blood that drips from her hands, warm and wet, nor is she fazed by the agony that clouds the man's mind. 

For his sake, Etaen hopes she didn't sever the artery. 

They'll need at least one _surviving_ Adarlanian soldier if they wish to interrogate him. 

"Are you alright?" 

"Yes, Luca, I'm fine." She tells the worried Demi-Fae male who Aelin has come to think of as a friend. 

Honestly, Etaen thinks he shouldn't be here. He's a good soldier, but his gentle heart will end up getting him killed before it's over. Or not, Etaen's been around long enough to know that sometimes the gentle hearted ones are the most dangerous. The most likely to sever a head from a body with little to know guilt. 

And all around them soldiers are dying. 

Etaen can feel their pain, knows what their last thought is as Hellas takes them into his arms. Most of the time, it's a family member. A wife or a lover or a child that will never been seen again. 

The loud crack of armor hitting stone has Etaen pulling Luca out of the way of the charging Adarlanian soldier, hand coming up, blades poised. And then the soldier is attempting to twist out of the way of the knives, his body is weighed down by his armor and his weapons though, and as he twists Etaen brings her blade down with all of the force she can.

Luca's breath hitches slightly and a loud cry of surprise flashes across his mind as Etaen's blade slices through flesh and bone. It results in the man loosing his head. A head that bounces and rolls across the bloody ground beneath their feet.

"Where is Emrys?" Etaen demands, turning her attention away from the body.

"Safe. I saw to it." Luca promises.

Etaen merely nods before turning away from the other demi-fae.

The battle rages around them. 

Even with Rowan's skill, honed from years of fighting, will not be enough to win this battle. Not when more and more soldiers seem to pour from the darkness of the tunnel. They're trained killers, with well made armor and weapons of even better quality. 

Shit, they'll be lucky if half of Mistward survives the night. 

Etaen wipes at her face in an attempt to wipe the blood off. It's not that it's impeding her any. It's just a pain in the ass to deal with. More trouble then it's worth really. But the bloody just smears and mixes with the sweat clinging to Etaen's brow. 

For a brief moment Etaen wonders if the blood is her own. 

* * *

When Maeves group of blood sworn soldiers appear at Mistward, Etaen barely notices. 

It's not her fault of course. Etaen is wounded and her mind's racing with thoughts that aren't her own. Pain and fear and the desperate need to see loved ones again, none of it is her own. 

So when she brushes the thoughts of an unfamiliar Fae Male... Well, to say she's a little surprised would be a minor understatement. 

This male's mind is quiet. A great expanse of calm thoughts that are not disturbed by the clang of weapons crashing against armor. Etaen allows herself to slip further into the male's mind, allows herself to see through his eyes. What she finds is bodies and blood and a wall of ebony mist creeping toward Mistward. The blonde pulls out of the male's mind. 

There are more of them. Five to be exact. All of them belong to Maeve, all of them fight for Maeve- though one or two spare Aelin and Rowan a passing thought. 

Etaen snarls loudly as a body slams into hers from the left, causing both herself and her attacker to tumble ass over end into blood and gore. Not surprisingly, Etaen looses her blades. The two of them roll a bit, which ends with the Adarlanian soldier on top. He wraps his fingers around her pale throat and squeezes for all he's worth. Etaen snarls, unaware of her body's shift until the sound of the fighting around her intensifies.

She rarely takes on her fae body. Most of the time it's unneeded. Her senses are already keen enough without her far abilities, and with her gifts on top of it... Well, Etaen's never really had need of her fae form. However, it does come in handy. Especially the teeth. Etaen curls her hand around the man's head, twisting just enough so that she can reach out and grab the small dagger sheathed at the man's side. 

The dagger is too heavy, too ornately decorated, to be practical. But the blade is sharp and Etaen buries it in the man's skull with more ease then she would have expected. 

"Fucker." Etaen snarls as she pushes the man's limp body off. 

His blood drips from Etaen's face, catching slightly on the scars, and decorates her flesh like some sort of macabre warpaint. She supposes it's suitable. Given the circumstances.

Etaen spins the dagger around so that she can get a better grip on it, absently reaching for the sword at her side. The sword Emrys had insisted she take. But her fingers still on the pommel and Etaen doesn't move to unsheathe the weapon. 

Something is very, very wrong. 

She's running, spinning and slashing and cutting her way to the gates. 

Etaen reaches it just in time to witness her cousin's wrath. 

Her vengeance and Rowan's instinctual need to _protect_. 

And as the creatures scream and die Etaen finds herself thinking that this is but the beginning of a very long, very bloody war. 


	5. Chapter 5

Etaen avoids her father, as well as the four others that came with him. Especially the one they call Lorcan. Etaen trusts him about as far as she can throw him. He's too loyal to Maeve, to in love with that bitch Queen to see what she is. But Etaen supposes the others aren't as bad. They're more tolerable.  

Her wounds aren't terrible- most of them have healed, leaving behind pale scars or unmarred flesh but there is one that refuses to heal properly. A gash across her side, deep but not life threatening at this point. The only reason Etaen's going to the healers is because Rowan had asked her too. He'd even gone as far as to tell her that Aelin would not be pleased to learn of Etaen's stubbornness.

But the hospice is near full and the healers have their hands full.

So Maeve's dogs have stepped forth to heal those who need it.

Etaen hopes Rovena will come to her. But it is not the gentle healer that spots Etaen waiting near the door. And Vaughan doesn't ask questions when Etaen steps into the hospice. He just guides her to a chair and tells her to remove her tunic so that he might examine her wound. 

This is a familiar action, and Etaen doesn't hesitate to pull the borrowed tunic up so that Vaughan can get at her wound. 

"There's no infection." Vaughan comments absently as he reaches out to press his hand over the wound. But his fingers brush over a puckered scar that traces one of Etaen's ribs, causing the damaged nerves to tingle. 

"Can you heal it?" Etaen demands, because there's no use staying if the male can't help her. 

The fae male scoffs under his breath before offering a polite, "I can." 

Then he's pushing his magic into the wound. 

Etaen doesn't even flinch at the sting of her flesh knitting together. 

Once the wound is healed and Vaughan has wiped away the excess blood Etaen stands. 

"Thank you." She offers before adjusting her tunic and stalking off toward the door. 

 The fae male doesn't follow her, but Etaen can feel his eyes on the back of her head as she slips away. 

* * *

Luca is a wonderful sparring partner. 

He's a bit unpolished, Etaen suspects someone's been attempting to train him at the very least, but not terribly so. Besides, he's eager to learn. And when Etaen comes to him later in the evening and asks if he'd mind sparring with her Luca is quick to nod his head and pull the apron he'd been wearing off. 

"You two be careful. I don't want to hear that either of you ended up in the hospice!" Emrys calls after them. 

"No harm will come to Luca." Etaen promises before pulling the dark haired Demi-Fae out of the kitchen. 

The two of them make their way to the training yard. 

Luca asks why they aren't going to the armory, because there are training weapons there that won't cause any real harm to either of them should their sparring get a little out of control. Which makes Etaen chuckle. Luca doesn't know what out of control sparring is. 

Gods above, Etaen can count on both hands the number of times she and Radomir have come out of sparring sessions bloody and bruised, nursing broken bones or fractures ribs. The thought makes Etaen mildly grateful of the fact that her friend isn't actually with them at the moment. 

He'd want to train Luca the way they'd been trained. 

Etaen doesn't think that's such a good idea. 

"Remove your shoes." Etaen commands once they hit the training yard. 

It's almost empty, which hardly surprises Etaen. She wouldn't want to be training either after everything that happened last night. However, there are a few demi-fae who are taking advantage of the yard. 

 _Good_ , Etaen thinks, _they need to train_. 

"Why my shoes?" Luca inquires, but he's kicking off his boots anyway. 

"I find it's easier to train someone in close combat when there's less chance of injuring each other." Etaen remarks as she carefully sets aside her own shoes. 

"Oh... So we're doing close combat?" Luca's excitement is palpable. 

"For now." Etaen shrugs. 

Luca is quick to gather their shoes and toss them onto one of the stone benches lining the yard. Etaen doesn't mention that moving their shoes is unnecessary. No one's going to steal a couple of worn out shoes. 

"Alright, what now?" Luca questions. 

"Hit me." Etaen replies, falling into a stance. 

"I beg your pardon?" 

"Hit me. I'm going to show you a defensive move. Can't do that if you don't cooperate." 

Luca's mind is full of indecision. He doesn't want to hit Etaen, not because he's worried about hurting her, but he is worried about Etaen hurting him. Etaen thinks it's almost cute.

But today Etaen doesn't have time for this shit.

"Who do you usually train with?" Etaen asks. 

"Malakai... Some days, when he has time." 

"And does Malakai hold punches?" 

"...No..." 

"Then you have nothing to fear from me." 

The assertion seems to work because Luca breathes deeply for a moment before rushing forward. 

He aims for her face, Etaen isn't surprised. The twenty-four year old moves, bringing her forearms up to slam against Luca's forearm, once his hand is positioned Etaen moves. She twists her hands so that she can grab hold of Luca's wrist and pull him forward so that he looses his balance, then she moves one foot out behind him while using the opposite hand to slam against the unprotected expanse of his chest. The movement, combined with Etaen's foot, causes the dark haired male to fall backward into the dirt. 

Luca lays there a moment, coughing slightly, and laughing. Then he's pulling himself off of the ground with the help of Etaen's offered hand. 

"Are you alright?" Etaen inquires once the younger male is righted. 

"Perfectly." Luca replies, though his breathing sounds a bit more labored. Etaen makes a mental note to not hit so hard. 

"Do you wish to try again?" 

"Obviously!" 

Etaen offers a smirk before stepping away from Luca. 

She's quick to break down the defensive moved she'd used earlier. Because it wouldn't be sparring unless Luca actually improved his fighting skills. Once Luca actually manages to use the move on Etaen properly, the blonde pats him on the shoulder and tells him that he's doing good, to which Luca smiles and tries a little harder on the next move. 

Eventually they stop. 

Bruised, sweaty, and panting the two of them move to sit on the stone benches. 

"Where did you learn that?" Luca inquires as he wipes the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. 

"The people that raised me thought it would be best if I knew how to defend myself. So I learned." Etaen replies as she pulls on her shoes. 

"I see..." Luca is quiet for a moment.

Etaen wonders if he'll ask about her parents or the men and women that raised her. But he doesn't. He just keeps his mouth closed and his thoughts pointedly directed on something that has nothing to do with Etaen's family. 

And for a moment, brief though it may be, Etaen wishes someone would sit down next to her and ask about her parents. About the silver haired, green eyed Crochan witch that took Etaen's beaten body into her home, about the children Etaen grew up with. Instead they ask about how Etaen ended up in that cave. 

_Why were you there?_

_What happened?_

_How long had you been a prisoner?_  

Etaen thinks the only ones to ever ask is she was alright were Emrys and Aelin. 

Luca never mentions it. Etaen doesn't blame him. 

She wouldn't want to ask about it either if she were in his shoes. 

* * *

Later that evening Etaen finds herself sitting on the Ramparts. 

Aelin is still sleeping and Rowan sits at her side like a loyal pet. It doesn't bother Etaen as much as it should, because, Rowan is Aelin's friend and Etaen has never known the younger blonde to forsake her friends. Which means that she'll do anything in her power to break the bond between the Prince and Maeve. 

Twigs snapping and labored breathing in the forest surrounding Mistward causes Etaen's attention to slip away from her thoughts about Aelin and Rowan. 

 _Faster, faster, need to go faster_. 

Milky white eyes widen as the noise grows louder. 

The sentinels that Lorcan or Rowan or Connall have positioned seem to have finally noticed the noises because they begin raising their bows, ready to shoot down whatever threat nears Mistward. And with everything that happened yesterday, and their fear, Etaen has no doubt in her mind that they'll shoot before Radomir reaches the gates.

"Hold! Hold your fire!" Etaen yells as she rushes toward the closest sentinel.

Unfortunately, he is not the sentinel with the clearest view of Radomir but... It'll do. 

The demi-fae glares at her but does not lower his bow. 

So Etaen figures he's wasted the one opportunity she had been willing to give him. With a silent apology Etaen thrusts her fist into the male's nose. The crunch of it breaking is only barely concealed by his pained cry. Etaen waits a moment before moving onto the next sentinel- who, by this point has noticed his comrade and Etaen, is lowering his bow. Ever so slightly.

Moments later Radomir clears the trees.

His mount huffs and snorts as Radomir urges him closer to the keep of Mistward. But Etaen doesn't care much about the exhausted stallion that has carried Radomir to Mistward. All she cares about is the fact that Radomir's thoughts are scattered and occasionally drifting toward the wound that is beginning to heal in his side. 

Etaen rushes toward the gate. 

"State your business, stranger." Her father commands as Radomir nears the gate. 

The indignation, the rage, Radomir feels toward Maeve's blood sworn is enough to make Etaen bite back a smile. She almost fails when the male growls out a furious, "I answer to one, and she is not you. Unless, of course, you've grown a cunt between those legs of yours." 

"Radomir, enough." Etaen reprimands as she shoves past her father and Lorcan. 

"So you're alive," Radomir breathes, the relief obvious. "We had assumed the worst when Akella was unable to find you." 

Etaen waits as the taller male dismounts, once both feet are on the ground Etaen moves closer to embrace her friend. 

_I have missed you, dearest friend._

_And I you._

The blonde pulls away with the slightest upturn of her lips. 

Radomir tosses his arm over her shoulder as he begins walking, leading both Etaen and the horse he'd traveled on toward the stables. Etaen is fully aware of the fact that Rowan has appeared in the courtyard as well. 

"What are you doing here, Radomir?" Etaen demands, not unkindly. She just doesn't understand what he's doing here. 

He and the others are supposed to be getting the Demi-Fae as far from Adarlan's reach as possible. And seeing as Radomir is one of the best warriors in the squadron... Well, Etaen doesn't know what's happened to make Radomir abandon the others= he's making sure not to think of it- but whatever it was couldn't have been good. 

Radomir says nothing. 

Etaen thinks it has something to do with the Whitethorn Prince coming toward them. 

"So you know him." 

"Yes, Rowan," Etaen sighs, too tired to be dealing with Rowan's fae masculinity. "Radomir and I practically grew up together." 

"Practically." Radomir scoffs, "We're almost siblings." 

"Almost?" Etaen questions. 

"Of course, you're certainly pretty enough to be _my_ sister. I, however, am not cruel enough to be your brother." 

"Since when have I ever been cruel, Radomir?" 

The older male cackles before making a comment about Alaster, a fae male who Etaen loathes, and how she hadn't needed to knock every tooth out of his head. To which Etaen had snapped something about the shit head deserving it. 

"Who is Alaster?" Rowan asks, sounding a little more amused then before. 

"No one." Etaen asserts. 

But Radomir ignores her and as he leads his horse into the stables the male says, "A giant prick. He used to travel with us, until he'd tried to get Yvette into bed with him... Probably would have forced himself on Yvette had Etaen not come across them." 

"Then it sounds like he deserved it." The one named Fenrys remarks dryly, Etaen isn't even sure where he came from. 

"What he deserved," Etaen snaps, twisting her head ever so slightly, "was me ripping out his throat. What he got was a mercy." 

Of course, teeth don't grow back. And Alaster had screamed so horrifically when he'd seen the almost artistic scatter of his porcelain white teeth agains the cold stone of their home. 

Radomir laughs as he hands his horse to a stable hand. 

"And poor old Etaen was the one that got her ass ate." Radomir adds. 

Etaen rolls her eyes and leans up against a stall door. "What is it you want, Radomir? You're supposed to be with the others." 

 _They're safe, I made sure they boarded the ship... Besides, they have Ezra and Leonna._  

"I came to get you," Radomir admits slowly, the joyfulness gone from his thoughts. "When I got to those caves you were gone." 

"You got the others out, yes?" 

"As many as I could... Some were already lost." 

Etaen nods hesitantly, absently picking at the skin surrounding her thumb. It's a nervous tick. Something she'd picked up from her mother. Radomir reaches out to gently pull her hands apart. 

"Come, shield sister," Radomir whispers in the language they'd learned together. A secret language, meant to keep outsiders from listening in. "It will do you no good to fret." 

The blonde nods slowly, "We may speak in my room." 

She feels Radomir nod. Then he's offering his arm and Etaen is taking it out of habit. 

And together they make their way toward the castle. Both fully aware of the eyes boring into their backs. 


	6. Chapter 6

"Tell Aelin that I'll be back before she travels to Doranelle." Etaen commands as she stalks toward the stables. 

"Why are you leaving?" 

"Why do you care?" 

Rowan makes a frustrated noise before reaching out to grab hold of Etaen's elbow, effectively pulling her to a stop. Radomir, who is standing just outside the stables with his mount, lets out a warning growl when he notices Rowan's grasp on her. 

_Calm yourself._

_If he touches you anymore, he dies_. 

Etaen isn't surprised by Radomir's anger. 

"You are Aelin's cousin and a powerful Demi-Fae. If something were to happen, I would be unable to protect you." Rowan grits out, but there is an underlying tone that makes Etaen scowl. 

"I do not need your protection." Etaen hisses as she rips her arm away. 

Rowan's thoughts are angry, annoyed. Etaen merely rolls her eyes and moves toward Radomir. 

The male pulls her small pack from her shoulder as she nears. And Etaen allows him because it'll piss Rowan off as well as give her shoulder some reprieve. She's been having some issues with the past few days, she'll have Leonette look at it when they reach their destination. But for now she purses her lips and refuses to comment on the dull, aching throb that creeps from her shoulder and down to her fingers and back. 

"So, you and Whitethorn?" 

Etaen scowls at her friend's teasing. "No." 

"Really? Huh, surprising, he seemed so upset about you leaving that I'd assumed..."

"You're disgusting." 

Radomir laughs delightedly as he hoists himself up onto the stallion's back, once he's settled Radomir offers Etaen his hand. And she's not stupid enough to refuse his help. Her friend offers a teasing thought before pulling Etaen up behind him. The blonde rolls her eyes before driving her fist into his shoulder, to which her friend merely reaches down to rest his hand over the one resting across his middle. 

This is familiar. 

How many times has Etaen ridden with Radomir? Too damn many to remember. So she doesn't mind turning her head toward Rowan while resting her temple on Radomir's shoulder blade. 

"You worry too much Whitethorn. I'll be fine." Etaen promises, not entirely sure why she's trying to reassure the bastard. 

Rowan sighs and steps closer and rests his hand on her knee, pointedly ignoring Radomir's grimace. _Be sure to return before we reach Doranelle, we don't leave for a few days but it is imperative that you are there_. 

_Why? Worried?_

_Yes. Maeve is unpredictable and Aelin will not place diplomacy before her wrath_.  

Without replying Etaen turns her head away. 

She knows all about Maeve's unpredictability.

"Are we done?" Radomir snarks, earning himself a smack to the back of the head.

"Don't be a prick."

"We don't have time." 

Ah, yes. It's not a lie. The two of them need to be away from Mistward within the hour if they wish to reach Cattia before nightfall tomorrow. Which is important because if Cattia has summoned them then something has happened. Something bad. And Etaen would bet good money that it has something to do with Adarlan. Or the Iron Teeth Witches. Either one wouldn't surprise Etaen any. 

So it's with a sigh that Etaen turns her attention back to Rowan. 

"Now this is very important," Etaen comments as seriously as she can, Radomir tightens his hold on her hand. "Life or death important." 

"What is it?" Rowan snaps. 

Etaen leans closer, using the arm she's wrapped around Radomir to keep herself steady, and offers an impish grin from behind the curtain of her hair. "You need a bath. You positively reek." 

Rowan growls at her but before he can retort Radomir is digging his heels into the stallions sides and guiding them through the gates of Mistward. 

Once they're hidden in the trees, Etaen laughs. 

 

* * *

 

They ride hard and they ride fast. 

Radomir makes sure to keep one of his hands on Etaen's at all times in case something happens and he has to chose her over the horse. It won't happen, Radomir's too great a rider for anything like that to have the possibility of happening, but it's a nice gesture none the less. Etaen just rests her head upon Radomir's shoulder and listens to his thoughts. 

Honestly, she's worried. 

She'd spent hours with Radomir discussing what had happened between her capture and his arrival at Mistward. 

There was an attack on the homestead. Several are dead, Ilas included. Which pisses Etaen off because the gentle giant certainly hadn't deserved it. None of them deserved it. Worst part is, no one knows who ordered the attack. Maeve or Adarlan's King. Etaen doubts it was the magic-hating-ass that murdered her family, he'd have to have some pretty powerful trackers to be able to find the homestead... But then... He'd ordered the attack on Mistward and four of his soldiers had been Valg. 

Whoever ordered the attack however, has forced Morrigan to call a meeting of the War Council. 

"We're stopping." Radomir says as he pulls the horse to a stop. 

Etaen's quick to slide off of the stallion and Radomir is even quicker to follow. Once they're both situated and the horse has been taken care of Radomir leads Etaen over to a fallen log and tells her to sit. 

"Why have we stopped, Radomir?" Etaen demands softly, though she suspects that she already knows.

"Is it true? The creatures that took you, were they Valg?" 

The girl runs a hand through her hair. 

"Yes? Maybe? I don't know. I've never actually met a Valg before." Etaen mutters more to herself then anything. 

"What were their minds like?" Radomir demands. 

Because it's easier for Etaen to describe someone based on what she's seen in their heads. 

"Dark, like there were no happy memories. There wasn't anything good in their thoughts Radomir." 

"Valg then." 

"More then likely." 

Radomir makes a sound in the back of his throat before moving off to check out the horse he'd left standing to the side. Etaen waits on the log. She could attempt to help her friend with whatever it is he's doing but instead she turns her attention to the hair that's been falling out of the half-assed bun Etaen had tried to put it in some time after they'd left Mistward. 

Several minutes pass before Radomir returns. 

"We'll take a break, eat some food, drink some water, then we'll take off." 

"Sounds fine." 

Radomir drops down to rest in the dirt beside Etaen's feet. There's a rustle of fabric and then Radomir is pressing a chunk of bread into her hand. 

"Thank you, Mir." Etaen says before tearing into the chunk of somewhat fresh bread. 

 

* * *

  

By the time the two reach their destination the sun has set already and the moon is high in the sky. It's chillier then it had been, forcing Etaen to wrap her arms around Radomir to get warm. He laughs at her. 

Which earns him a pinch in the side. 

The man just laughs and bats her hand away, but he's pulled the horse to a stop. 

"Etaen!" 

"Reese!" 

Etaen dismounts quickly and, ignoring the others in the small yard, opens her arms so that the little girl running at her can embrace Etaen without hurting either of them. And Etaen kisses the younger girl's forehead, brushes back the child's hair, and smiles. 

Reese is a small girl, barely seven years of age, and perhaps one of Etaen's favorite people. 

"You've gotten so big!" Etaen laughs as she taps the top of the girl's head with her palm, as if measuring her size against Reese's. 

"I've grown exactly a quarter of an inch. I've been counting." 

"Have you now?" 

A loud clearing of a throat has Etaen pulling away from Reese and turning to face whoever it is that's stalked up behind them. 

 _You, child, are late._  

Etaen smiles at the Crochan witch before embracing the older woman. 

"I apologize, Morrigan." Etaen breathes as she buries her face in the witch's cloak. 

It smells like a bonfire. 

"I'm glad you're safe. Come, we have much to discuss and much to prepare for." 

Morrigan wraps her arm around Etaen's shoulder before leading the younger girl off toward the homestead. 

There's a stench of rotting blood, which means the dead have been buried and taken care of. Etaen won't have to worry about seeing the carnage through Radomir's eyes. Of course, she has more control then that and so she's not worried about it. But the fact remains. 

"You smell of blood child, are you unwell?" 

"I reunited with my cousin, she is being hunted." 

"By the Valg?" 

A stillness settles over the people in the yard and Etaen nods curtly. 

"By the Valg, by Maeve, by the King of Adarlan." 

Enraged snarls rip through the air. None of the names listed hold any fondness among the men and women living on the homestead. None whatsoever. Because these are beings who have taken homes and killed loved ones and enslaved innocent children. No one here is loyal to Maeve or the Valg or Adarlan's King. Which will make it all the easier to rally them to Aelin's cause. 

Because Aelin _will_ need an army. 

And why not get one started now? While the people are willing to fight to protect that which is their's to protect. 

"Your cousin is much feared." Morrigan intones as she leads Etaen further into the homestead. 

"Aren't all dangerous things?" 

Morrigan freezes, pulling Etaen's body so that they are facing one another, and raised her hand to run the pad of her thumb over the too smooth scar that surrounds Etaen's eyes. The girl amost jerks away, almost slaps Morrigan's hand form her face, but she refrains. Instead, she tries to think about the bath she will take when she's done with this little encounter. 

"Not all." Morrigan replies thoughtfully before turning on her heel and pulling Etaen off down the hall. 

The rest of their walk is silent, not even Radomir- who has been follwoing behind them since Morrigan led Etaen off- has uttered a word. Which wouldn't bother Etaen so much is the homestead itself weren't so... Silent. 

Three more minutes of almost unbearable silence pass before Morrigan stops. 

Etaen slips into her mind, thankful to find no resistance from the older woman, and uses her gift to gaze through the other woman's eyes. 

"My room?" 

"Of course, you need sleep as does Radomir. We will hold the Council meeting tomorrow." 

With that Morrigan leaves them. 

Etaen pulls out of the older woman's thoughts, not wanting to invade her privacy aside from no longer needing her to be Etaen's eyes. 

A hand on the small of her back has Etaen letting out a soft swear. 

"Don't do that Radomir, I could have hurt you." 

Radomir laughs, "Come no poppet no one likes a liar." 

Etaen slaps his hand away and moves to open her bedroom door. Radomir follows her into the bedroom, carefully taking in the familiar decor and the dusting furniture so that Etaen can see it as well.

No one has entered her room which means that no one has moved anything around. 

Which is fantastic. Makes moving around her room much easier. 

"I suppose this is it then, I'll see you tomorrow." Radomir remarks, already halfway to the door. 

"Thank you Mir." 

"Whatever for?" 

"For coming back to find me." 

A moment of silence before Radomir says, "Well... It was either come back for you or try and replace you." 

The comment makes Etaen laugh a little harder then she probably should. 


	7. Chapter 7

Cattia is old, far older then anyone in the homestead. 

Etaen stays out of her mind for several reasons, the first being that Etaen holds a lot of respect for Cattia, the second being that Etaen doesn't want to see what's in the older woman's head. Because Etaen has seen into Morrigan's mind and the things there had not been entirely pretty, but Cattia? Well, Cattia is far older then Morrigan and not as kind. 

But just because Etaen has never seen into Cattia's head doesn't mean she's a mystery to the younger girl. 

Another reason she chooses to stay out of the older woman's mind. 

So when Cattia calls the war council to order at dawn it is Etaen who shows up first. She slips into the room on silent feet and slides into her typical seat by the door. Soon the others begin to file in. Radomir takes a seat beside her, Leonette sits across the room, Myra sits closer to Cattia, Larken sits by the window, Brandon and Richard sit beside one another, and Morrigan sits to Cattia's right. 

Once everyone is settled and silent Morrigan rises. 

"This council has been called to discuss the recent attack on not only the homestead in which we live but the attack on Mistward as well," Morrigan says. "I could not tell you who called for the attack when last we spoke, however, I have reason to believe that the King of Adarlan is targeting out people." 

"And how do you know this? Myra demands, voice soft. She lost a brother in the attack. "The King of Adarlan couldn't have found us. Not when Anna's magic kept us shielded." 

Anna, sweet Anna, She was killed too. 

"No, but the Valg who attacked us could have." Morrigan replies. 

"Maeve would not have sided with the Valg." Brandon adds. 

"Says who? You? Maeve's loyalty cannot be bought! She is a royal cunt who pretends her shit doesn't stink. If she wanted to send the Valg after us she would have." Myra snaps. 

Etaen bites back a smile. 

Beside her Radomir snorts before he nudges Etaen with his elbow. As if the gesture will make her laugh as well. Instead, Etaen just offers a lopsided grin before turning her attention back to the War council. 

"Enough! All of you!" Morrigan roars, her voice cutting through the arguing and the enraged grumbling. "Please. It was not Maeve who ordered the attack, she doesn't care enough about us to do such a thing." 

"Then what would you have us do? Fight the valg? The Bastard King?" Larken demands. 

"Aelin Galathynius lives." 

Etaen drives her elbow into Radomir's side before shooting him a look. He shouldn't have said anything. Etaen doesn't know if Aelin has plans to actually fight against Adarlan. She wouldn't be surprised, not after the other night, if Aelin _did_ fight. But she can't be sure. And to have the people of the homestead rally behind Aelin when there's no certainty of a fight? It's asinine. 

"What?" This time it is Cattia. Her voice is sharp and reprimanding and Etaen knows that after this she'll be getting her ass handed to her. 

"She defeated three Valg princes at Mistward. Burned them where they stood. She is Brannon Galathynius reborn and I believe she should join her." Radomir says. 

"Is this true, Etaen? Has your cousin returned?" 

Etaen nods. "Yes, Aelin is alive and well. I plan on returning to her company once we are done here." 

"Would she fight Adarlan?" Leonette inquires. 

"I can't say. I assume so, but I didn't get a chance to speak to her before Radomir came for me." 

The room erupts into shouting. 

Some yell that they should join Aelin, some say they should not. This doesn't bother Etaen. What bothers Etaen is the press of their minds against her own. It makes her ill. Makes her want to pull at her hair and clench her eyes. But she doesn't. Because that would be showing a weakness. 

"Aelin Galathynius has the best claim! She is the Queen of Terrasen, she is _our_ queen!" Radomir yells. 

"What kind of Queen leaves her people to suffer at the hands of the enemy!" Richard sneers. 

"You know nothing of what happened that day Richard, nor do you know anything about what happened over the years after. How dare you judge my cousin when you yourself have run from your duties as well!" Etaen screams, the chair she'd been sitting in seconds before clattering to the ground.  

"Would you fight for her Etaen? Truly fight for her?" 

Etaen turns to face Cattia and Morrigan, wishing that she could see them with her own eyes, wishing she could convey the dedication she feels for Aelin through just a glance. But she can't. So Etaen does the next best thing. 

She strides to the middle of the room and declares her devotion. 

"I would do anything for Aelin. If she chooses to fight then I shall fight as well and I will not expect you to fight with us. But I will fight and I will die for my country, my people, but more specifically, I will fight for my cousin." 

_Because she is more then just a woman sitting on a throne._

Cattia makes a noise in the back of her throat. 

"Do you think your cousin could win this war?" The older woman asks. 

Etaen stands tall and proud, not letting the uncertainty she feels show, "I believe that with the right people behind her Aelin could conquer entire worlds." 

Several moments pass in which people mutter and argue and bicker. Several moments in which Etaen stands in the middle of the room facing Cattia and Morrigan. _Please_ , she wants to bed, _please_. Because Aelin is strong but without an army Aelin will have nothing. 

"I will not send my people to war if they do not want to fight." Cattia declares. 

"Then don't. In times of war healers and smiths are needed just as much as soldiers." Etaen replies. 

"You are one of us Etaen, and we never turn our backs on one of our own. So if you chose to follow your cousin into war, if you believe she can win, then she has the support of our people as well." 

It doesn't mean soldiers, not really. It means weapons and armor and healers. It means spies and assassins. 

It means support in a time where Aelin will have more enemies then friends. 

And that's all Etaen can truly ask for. 

 

* * *

 

Etaen later finds herself in the armory. 

Radomir had asked her to come down so that he could give her the armor he's finished. And to be quite honest, Etaen's actually really excited. She has every right to be. She'd asked Radomir to make it for her about a year ago. 

"About time you showed up." Radomir grumbles. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was on your schedule." Etaen gripes as she tosses her bag onto the floor. 

Probably not the smartest idea but they aren't in the work area and there's no one else around. Etaen isn't worried about it getting stepped on or stolen. 

"Whatever. Put this on." 

Radomir presses something into her hands _. A body suit_ , Etaen learns when she slips into Radomir's mind. She nods once before she starts removing her clothing. Etaen passes over the removed clothes to Radomir who folds them before setting them aside, and once Etaen is bare save for her bindings she allows Radomir to help her into the suit. 

it's easy enough to maneuver into, she won't need anyone's help after this, and the fabric is surprisingly soft against her flesh. 

But there's a feeling beginning to stir in Etaen's gut that tells her she needs to ask what the suit is made of. 

"No peaking!" 

Etaen nods hesitantly, pursing her lips slightly when Radomir pointedly refuses to truly acknowledge the armor he's gathering into his arms. She'll ask about the suit when he's done getting her into her armor. 

Radomir starts by sliding a chest piece into place, it's heavy against Etaen's body but won't be a hindrance to her, next Radomir is pulling something that feels oddly like a skirt into place, wrapping thick straps around her waist before tying it off. It's leather, not light enough to be anything else, and it's _short_. Barely reaching the middle of her thighs. 

"Now, you'll have to wear this with the body suit." Radomir says as he moves away. 

Etaen purses her lips. That feeling's back. That nagging, oh-shit feeling is back and it's starting to make Etaen crazy. 

"Let me see it." She commands. 

"So demanding." 

But Radomir doesn't fight her on it and focuses his attention on her body. 

The armor is made of thick leather and looks like a tunic without sleeves. It's tight around her breasts and middle but lose around her legs so that Etaen can move without getting caught up thanks to the shortness of it. The two are held together with leather straps and small metal bands, the same metal that has been pressed into certain parts of her armor to create a protective cover around her waist and the top of her breast piece. 

It's all very bright. 

A brilliant bronze that glints dully.  

"I've got a pair of boots for you to wear with it too." 

Etaen runs her fingers over her middle. She might be a bit taken about by Radomir's daring, to make armor like this... Etaen finds herself smiling. 

"Thank you, dear friend." 

"You like it then?" 

"Immensely." 

She can practically feel Radomir's smile. 

"Then you're going to love this." He says, then he's taking hold of Etaen's hand and sliding a series of rings onto her finger. 

Once he drops her hand Etaen moves to touch the heavy metal that covers her fingers. The rings are made of the same metal that is woven into her armor and covers her fingers from first knuckle to tip, allowing movement due to joints at , and they tapper out into sharp points. Etaen presses the tip of one finger into her palm, the metal sinks in with minimal resistance. 

Radomir wipes the blood away with his thumb. 

"You'll still be able to wield a sword and use a bow, in case you were wondering." 

"And why is the armor so short?"

"Why are venomous animals brightly colored? To warn off attackers."   

Radomir slides another set of rings onto the fingers of her other hand. 

And Etaen almost forgets to ask about the body suit. 

Almost. 

"Radomir?" 

"Yes?" 

"What is this suit made of?" 

There is a heavy silence from Radomir both physically and mentally. 

Etaen reaches out, places a hand on Radomir's broad chest, and curls her fingers into the soft fabric of his tunic. 

"You are my dearest friend, Radomir," Etaen says after a moment, "and I implore you, as a friend, to tell me what you have done." 

There is laughter in Radomir's voice as he says, "What makes you think I've done anything?" 

"Radomir, tell me." 

A heavy sigh, fingers carding through her hair. 

"After you were taken I... I went to Reese, to see if you were alive. When she told me that you weren't going to die in that cesspit... I went to see the Stygian Spiders."

"How many years did you give?" Etaen demands, tone harsh and biting.

"Only enough to make you that suit... Besides, I'm going to live a very long life Etaen. Same as you." 

Yes, because they're both immortal. They've both settled. The years Radomir has given won't really have any repercussions. It's the fact that he sold some of his life away to give her the possibility of a few more that has Etaen's chest feeling tight.   

And so it's with a quivering breath that Etaen pulls the taller male into a tight embrace. 

"I shall cherish it always." She breathes against Radomir's collarbone. 

"Yes, well, you're going to need it." 

Etaen laughs against her friend's chest, a breathy exhale really, and she tightens her grip. 

 

* * *

 

Before she leaves Reese comes to her room. 

The little girl hovers at the door, unsure of whether or not she's welcome in Etaen's space. Which is strange seeing as the girl has never had a problem crawling into bed with Etaen when she's frightened from her own bed by nightmares and visions. 

"Is everything alright, Reese?" Etaen asks, not moving away from the provisions she is putting into her pack. 

"You're leaving." 

"Yes." 

"Will I... Will you come home?" 

And it is then that Etaen turns to give Reese every ounce of her attention. 

She does not attempt to slip into the younger girl's mind though, it's too chaotic, too full of things that might or might not happen. But even though Etaen doesn't reach into Reese's mind there is still something brushing against Etaen's gift. 

"You know the answer to that already, don't you?" 

"Yes and no. I know that you might not." 

Etaen purses her lips, unsure of how to take that. 

Reese never speaks of her visions unless she's sure nothing will change if she does. Most of the time she gives vague replies when asked anything. 

But right now the younger girl's fear is almost palpable and Etaen finds herself moving before she can truly stop herself. 

Kneeling before the girl, Etaen reaches out to brush her hand against Reese's cheek- a movement she's done so many times before- and offers a weary smile. 

"One way or another, Reese, I will always come back to you." 

"Because you have too." 

"Because you are my family and I have never willingly left my family." 

Never. 

She'd thought Aelin was dead for years, if she'd known any better Etaen would have stormed Adarlan to bring her home. Aedion is no different, but by the time she'd found out he'd lived Aedion had become a soldier and a general. But just because she hadn't been able to go to him then didn't mean she hadn't kept an eye on her beloved brother. 

Because she has. 

Suddenly there are arms around her neck and a face pressed against her shoulder. Etaen hesitates only a moment before pulling Reese closer. 

"Be careful." Reese begs, her voice full of tears. 

"Of course, of course, always." Etaen breathes. 

Reese sobs a little harder but pulls away none the less. 

"You should go soon... And bring a cloak." 

"Promise you'll listen to Morrigan." 

"Of course." 

Then Reese is gone, the door to Etaen's room clicking shut behind her. 

Etaen runs a hand through her hair, wincing a bit at the not-quite-greasy texture, then she stands and makes her way back over to her bed where her pack has been left forgotten for the past few minutes. She brushes her fingers over the worn leather with a colorful swear. 

She'll need to leave soon if she wants to make it back to Mistward before Aelin leaves for Doranelle. 

With one last pointless glance around her room- a habit she's never quite managed to stop- Etaen grabs her cloak from the bed and wraps it wound her body. She even pulls the hood up over her hair. Radomir hates hooded cloaks, says they fuck with his peripheral vision. Luckily Etaen doesn't have to bother with that. 

Once her cloak is secured Etaen grabs her pack, throws it over her shoulder, and makes her way toward the door. 

No one is waiting for her in the corridor but there are men and women bustling about doing whatever task Cattia has given them. Etaen greets a few of them but most are too preoccupied to pay her much attention. Which is perfectly fine with Etaen, she'd rather be alone right now anyway. It'll make leaving a little bit easier. Not much, but a little bit. 

The stables are a far cry from empty when Etaen enters. 

She takes a second to separate her thoughts from those of the men and women around her before stepping up to a stable hand. 

"Ready my horse, please." 

She won't take Radomir's this time. 

"Yes, My Lady." 

The boy runs off to do as he's been instructed, returning moments later with a horse following behind. He hands over Titus' reins before running off. Etaen pats her mounts neck before leading him out of the stables so that she can mount without worrying about being in someone's way. 

Titus remains still, more interested in looking around then attempting to run off. It's something that used to happen a lot when Etaen was younger and still learning to ride while using her gift. But that was years ago. 

Once she's settled Etaen adjusts her cloak. 

"May Farnor watch over and bless you." 

Etaen twists so that Cattia may see her smile. 

"And may Lani offer you pleasant dreams." 

"Until we meet again." 

Etaen doesn't reply, not with words. She merely offers a soft smile before she turns away, pressing her heels into Titus' flank with a soft click of her tongue. Her horse trots forward toward the gates of the homestead, the journey will be a long one and they'll have to ride hard, but for a moment Etaen will revel in the sounds and scents that make up her home. 

 _Until we meet again_ , she thinks as Titus enters the forest, _whenever that may be._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I watched Wonder Woman over the weekend and fell in love with the Amazonian armor. Which means Etaen's armor has been styled off of a mix of Diana's WW armor and her Themyscira armor. A little bit. And the impracticality of it has been explained away so I don't feel bad about what I've done.   
> At all.


End file.
